Leader of Men
by SuperGravyMan
Summary: A Daniel Cousland adventure. The topic this time: Leadership. Alistair's POV.


Leader Of Men

** Well, hello hello. Look who's come back around with a new Daniel Cousland story for all y'all. This one is gonna be from Alistair's POV, starts all the way back at Ostagar, and it's based on a line from a Nickelback song, the same one the story's named after. Those of you who refuse to have anything to do with Nickelback can pretend it's based on the song 'In Friends We Trust' by Chunk! No, Captain Chunk! because it's strangely awesome. There'll be some time skips that take it all the way to the ending, but just through some side areas this time. Lots of other stuff on the big events planned for later and all. On that note, we should all get started, eh?**

** Disclaimer: I don't like copyright, but for the time being it's a law, so all the people who created the things you see here are the property of those same people, and not me. I'm not making any money off of it, and I really hope this qualifies as fair use, but I'd prefer not to find out.**

_I am not a leader of men, Since I prefer to follow._

He made sure to keep himself somewhere in the middle of the group as they traveled through the Wilds. Duncan had asked him to make sure the new recruits were not set upon by the horde, but as he told them, he was under no obligation to kill the evil things for them or tell them where to go, beyond getting to the old outpost. It was a bonding experience for their possible future together, he said. None of that was untrue, it just conveniently left out the fact that he was happy not taking control of their small group if he didn't have to, and could just follow them around for the most part.

No, Alistair thought to himself, he had never been a leader, not unlike that Daveth fellow Duncan had brought in. They both seemed to prefer hanging back, keeping the situation light while offering their insight as merely helpful suggestions. Jory, on the other hand, seemed to be as nervous as one of the multitude of mice they'd passed by on their way in, his eyes darting back and forth at every slight noise. That was not the type of attitude that inspired men to follow you into battle.

The third among their number, though, seemed to be just the type for the job. When they had set out, both recruits had instinctively looked to... Daniel, was it? Yes, yes, that was his name. There had been no argument, no one attempting to assert their own power, quite good qualities for a group of future Wardens, if he really thought on it. He looked the youngest amongst them, though that hardly mattered when one seemed so well suited to the command position.

With three fairly skilled recruits and a Grey Warden, there was little chance the group would run into something they could not handle between them, and this was proven time and again as they wandered through the Wilds, easily conquering the small groups of darkspawn they came upon. There was certainly no shortage of the beasts, and they soon had more than enough blood for each recruit and were able to save some time with not having to stop and siphon the disturbing liquid out of those...things.

As such, the band of those-recruited-to-be-brothers made quite good time on their journey through the eerie woods, and soon the temple, well ruin now, but former temple, the one Duncan had told him to look in, was in their sights. The treaties within were unfortunately not discovered with similar ease. It was just after they'd found an opened box that would seem to have contained something important (the treaties?) at a point well in the past. That was when the sneaky, creepy, and yet rather attractive witch-thief who called herself Morrigan arrived.

Alistair could hear the recruits laughing at him as he bumbled through his conversation with the witch, delivering such gems as "Swooping is bad," and that stealing from dead men was "quite easy apparently." Or at least he would have, had Daveth and Jory not been as on guard and wary as he himself was, both of their eyes darting around to the edges of the ruins, watching for the barbarians he'd feared.

Daniel, on the other hand, seemed to be in an intense staring contest with the witch for a while before she spoke. "And what of you?" She asked. "Have you no baseless accusations to make?"

His brow raised at her. "If you wanted to attack us, you would have done so while we were distracted and you had the advantage. You have presented us with nothing but curiosity, albeit blunt, to this point. Thus far, I have no true reasons to distrust you, and as you referred to these as 'your Wilds', I can only imagine you have some knowledge of the surrounding area. But first off, my name is Daniel Cousland. May I ask yours, my lady?"

Dear Maker, it seemed he'd actually impressed her. The spooky, shocking 'witch of the Wilds' had been caught off-guard by nothing but good manners. This... Morrigan, she called herself, seemed all too happy to help Daniel, though she still maintained an icy disdain when dealing with the rest of them.

And this is why I don't handle situations well, Alistair thought, as they were guided back to Ostagar from 'Flemeth's' hut. He had nearly made a right mess of things with his initial impression, and yet once the young recruit had taken over the main role, everything had perfectly. Daniel had even succeeded in impressing another creepy magical Wilder woman. Perhaps it was just something the nobility taught their children, how to sweep women off their feet. He decided that it was definitely something he would have to look into for future situations.

The Joining ritual was not one Alistair had much enjoyed the first time through, and he quickly discovered that watching from the other side was not any more enjoyable, even with his new knowledge on the purpose of the secrecy surrounding the event, he still thought it a terrible surprise to spring upon those who had worked so hard to get even this far. Ser Jory seemed to agree with his opinion, but the larger man was even more taken aback by the whole thing than he, especially after they watched Daveth crumple to the floor, never to rise again. Still though, he had not expected the soldier to attempt drawing his weapon, nor how useless it would be in aiding his escape. Soon he too would rise no more.

Only one of the three remained standing, now, as Duncan picked up the goblet of blood again. There was definitely some fear in the younger man's eyes, yet Alistair also recognized that determination he'd noticed when he'd first met the final recruit, the single-mindedness Duncan had mentioned in the letter sent ahead of them. Daniel Cousland, it seemed, had always been on the fast track for a leadership position somewhere. Combining that with his recently acquired desire for revenge on Arl Rendon Howe, his family's murderer, and it seemed he was willing to do nearly anything that would help him towards that goal. He stepped forward with little hesitation, drinking deeply from the giant cup, and emerged from the experience stronger than ever before.

"This is crazy. I'm going crazy. That's it, that's got to be it. There can't be darkspawn here, so far beyond our lines. They're not supposed to be anywhere near here."

Alistair's eyes nearly popped off his head the first time he saw Daniel smile, a small smirk as he replied "You could try telling them they're in the wrong place." He'd never seen his new fellow Warden speak, not even gesture without being completely serious and stone-faced. This first sign of life, for it to come now, as they cut their way through swaths of unexpected enemies... Maybe he was going crazy, because it almost seemed like they were starting to have a little bit of fun together, the two of them. There were quite a few darkspawn, but nothing they couldn't handle, especially with the mage that had recently joined them and Daniel's large mabari hound Chet assisting them. Hadn't he just been complaining that he wouldn't get to be a part of the fighting?

No, he'd been right the first time, he was definitely crazy. How had he even been considering having fun when Duncan and all the rest of the Wardens were out on the field dying as they wasted time on small skirmishes? And now all of them were dead, and at the moment he was the only conscious Grey Warden in all of Ferelden. Maker, but that sounded ominous. He definitely needed to not be left alone with his thoughts so often, that was for sure.

Apparently he wasn't the only one who was thinking that, either, as Flemeth stepped away from her pot by the fire. She'd said she turned into a giant bird and rescued them. They were clearly here, so there must have been some truth to the story, but he honestly wasn't sure if it made him grateful or merely more fearful of the old witch. He'd definitely be listening to whatever she had to say though.

"Will you quit wearing a hole in my dirt? I have told you, your friend will be fine, what he needs is time," she paused, looking over his shoulder as the door to the hut opened, "see? Here is your fellow Grey Warden now."

Alistair's ears perked up as much as Chet's did at that, the dog having waited outside near him when he was refused access to his master's sickbed. Man and dog both rushed over to where Daniel now stood in the doorway, though Alistair let the dog handle all the face-licking.

It was infinitely better not being the only Grey Warden, that was decided in just a few short moments. After one conversation with Flemeth, they already had a plan, a destination, and lots of Grey Wardening to do out in the wide world. Frankly it was all quite terrifying, but Daniel seemed to be taking it all as in stride as one could in this sort of situation, and he was determined not to be out-done by his junior brother-in-arms _all_ the time. Of course, both of them couldn't help but be taken aback when Morrigan was added to their party, even the witch herself had not been expecting that, but Flemeth seemed insistent, and Alistair chose to trust in Daniel's judgment just this once more.

It was beginning to be an unfortunate theme of Alistair's life, this quickly regretting the major decisions that were made. Those decisions currently found him rushing through the edge of the Korcari Wilds, an angry mage hot on his trail as he ducked behind a large rock. When his head came up, he found said witch staring irritatedly at him. "I went that way!" He blurted, pointing to his left. She didn't even bother looking, so he took off in the other direction, now yelling "Daniel! Frog time!"

Ferelden's other Warden emerged from the brush marking the very edge of the Wilds, stopping Alistair with a hand on his shoulder, his gaze roaming between him and the mage. "Would you two quiet down before you've alerted every bandit in the area to our presence?" They nodded somewhat sheepishly. "Now," He looked to Alistair, "what was so important?"

"It's like I told you, first it's 'I like you', then 'zap! Frog time!'"

Both Wardens looked to Morrigan next, and she seemed irked by Alistair's claims. Or just Alistair in general, as the two likely went hand in hand. "I dispute that! The fact that I would ever claim to 'like' the fool, that is. As for his imminent frog-dom, he undoubtedly deserved it."

"Undoubtedly." Daniel responded, the sarcasm in his voice so evident you could nearly see him rolling his eyes in your mind, despite his actual face remaining mostly serious, only that little smirk he so enjoyed showing through the stone. "Seeing as we do need him for the time being, could we possibly postpone the magical frog making for a while?"

"Oh, I suppose I could be persuaded to wait, though both of you would do kindly to remember that I do not appreciate your 'assistance' in organizing my supplies." She warned them as she turned and strode back to where she'd left her pack.

The Wardens looked to one another. "You actually went through her pack?"

"I offered my assistance! It was no more than Chet does when he leaves her his little 'gifts'."

"Yes, and it seems she appreciates both so very well..."

"Alright," Alistair admitted, staring down at his boots, "it wasn't one of my better ideas, but I was just trying to help."

"I know, I know. And I'm sure she'll get more used to eventually. We're all just a little on edge from the constant darkspawn presence up to this point. I bet things will get easier once we hit Lothering. Just you watch."

It wouldn't have specifically been 'easier', the word Alistair would choose for how things changed once their group passed through an actual town, but things certainly got more 'interesting' and 'complex' and all kinds of horrible, wonderful words like that. The Wardens had managed to gather more allies along the way than Alistair could have ever hoped for, though the problems those new friends had that needed solving were bigger than he could have even imagined.

Just in that first town of Lothering, they met a lay sister of the Chantry who used to be an Orlesian bard, as well as a giant Qunari warrior. In the Circle Tower, home of the mages, one of the country's wisest, most powerful healers joined them. The road to the Brecelian Forest brought a friendly- too friendly, in fact- assassin into their midst. A side trip on the way to Orzammar introduced them to their one-of-a-kind, free-willed golem friend. Once they actually got to the last great city of the dwarves, they also met an old drunken man who could still swing a giant axe with the best of them. Every single one of them also had a personal problem that had bothering them for years, from an old enemy or friend that needed 'taking care of' to the finding of their very history or soul.

Overall, it was likely the most rag-tag bunch ever to even hope of saving the world, but somehow they all held together. Something, someone brought them into a cohesive unit, worked tirelessly to fix those problems, even took the time to make general conversation with everyone. Were you ask their second in command what that binding force was, Alistair Theirin would undoubtedly point you directly to Daniel Cousland.

As the Wardens and company approached various allies, it became clear that he wasn't the only one to notice this either. Daniel was the one who led the discussions with First Enchanter Irving and Keeper Zathrian, the one who negotiated the crowning of the newest king of the dwarven empire. It was to him the leaders of those various factions looked first.

He'd never liked leading, that was true. Even so, he was also a Grey Warden, the more senior of the Grey Wardens to boot! He at least deserved some of the respect for the position, for the mission they followed.

The more he thought about it though, really thought about it, did he deserve that respect? Should he truly feel entitled to it based solely on his position, his purpose? He'd thought it himself, he was the senior Warden in Ferelden, the more experienced one, and he'd passed off the leadership role, stepped out of the way, hadn't even really tried to handle some of the pressure anywhere outside of combat. Perhaps the reason he wasn't getting that respect was because he wasn't earning it. He was just along for the ride in the important parts, and people could see that. As they got closer to the seemingly inevitable Landsmeet, and it became clear that there was not much of a better option for the throne, it felt like that kind of an attitude simply wasn't going to fly any more. Daniel may be responsible for leading the resistance against this Blight, but it seemed Alistair was going to be responsible for its future. And if that was to be the case, he felt he should start taking some interest in the big decisions now, to prepare himself better for his future.

His chance would come sooner than he thought. It was in the mountains above the town of Haven, and they had just emerged victorious from the Gauntlet, gathered the so-called mythical ashes of Andraste, and rescued the scholar Brother Genitivi, who was waiting for them back at the main entrance.

As they all exited the cave, they could see a small group of what appeared to be Kolgrim's men waiting at the other side of the plain, back by the original temple they had fought through. They seemed to have been watching for the fellowship to reemerge, as half of their number pointed in their direction. One of the others produced a giant war-hammer from a strap on his back, and swung it straight into a gong that had gone unnoticed when they had previously passed through, having been watching their footing closely to avoid alerting the large dragon that had flown overhead.

It appeared all of that had been for naught, however, as they heard the beast roar in the nearby hills. Kolgrim's cultists vanished back into the temple as the winged terror came into view, focusing its sights on the weary heroes.

Sten, Oghren, the mabari Chet, and Alistair, those without reliable ranged options, were quick to close the gap, drawing their blades and teeth and hacking at the monster around its feet. The rogues and mages stayed back, Daniel and Zevran in front of that group, ready to charge in if need be, but preferring to send no more into direct danger than were completely necessary.

They wore the beast down slowly, the arrow and magic slingers staying spread out to dodge the bursts of flame while the slashers cut in periodically, sliding back out when the scaly head reared in their direction.

It seemed they were getting somewhere when Sten's large blade sliced through the back left hamstring and a roar was let out. Then the thing leapt into the air, and none of those with blades could do anything but watch for a moment. They were caught off-guard when it folded in its wings and came straight back down hard, the weight and resulting shock waves throwing them all off of their feet.

Daniel and Zevran, however, had a better vantage point from their spot further back, and once they both came to the same conclusion on the dragon's next move, a quick glance and nod at each other told them everything they needed to know. They threw down their bows and dashed forward, both drawing their dual weapons as they ran.

The two rogues arrived just as the dragon landed, its weight pushing it into the ground as it absorbed the shock of the landing with its knees. It was then, just as the landing occurred, that they jumped. Zevran tucked and flipped, landing between the thing's back legs and heading forward to stick his weapons into the soft underbelly. Daniel was headed for the neck, wrapping himself around it and attempting to climb on top near the back of the head.

Both were successful, plunging their blades into the vulnerable spaces as the dragon howled in pain and anger. It was spilling blood all over the ground around now, almost definitely mortally wounded. Still, though, it would not go quietly. It continued to thrash back and forth for a while, and Zevran was quick to get out of the way at that point, swiping at the non-hamstrung back leg as he passed by. His strike was short, but bit deep enough to be felt, and the beast attempted to kick out at him when it was felt. This left the dragon on its weak leg, and it overbalanced, pitching onto one of its sides. The head came down hard on the solid ground, likely concussing the dragon, but doing far worse to its passenger.

Daniel Cousland was smacked into that ground with far more force than the human body was designed to safely handle, and quickly knocked unconscious. The dragon lay dead, and as it stopped twitching, the group closed in on what they hoped would not be two dead bodies.

Alistair was the first to his side, getting his friend's helmet off and checking the pulse along his neck, breathing slightly easier when he found it just as strong as normal. Wynne arrived soon after, and he moved out of her way, letting the more experienced healer have space for her examination.

"Daniel will be fine," She began, coming to them after a few moments, and they all let out a sigh of relief, "but he will be unconscious for a few hours, and we will need to find somewhere to wait in the meantime."

It was quiet as Alistair pondered the ramifications of this new development, and when he looked up he was surprised to find all eyes on him. That's right, he thought, I'm the only other Grey Warden, the second in command. If Daniel's out of commission, I'm next in line to take the lead. Right, I've been planning for this, I can do it, I can take some of the responsibility and do something here.

"We're going to need somewhere he can rest. Let's get inside the temple over there. We can make a fire, and Wynne can watch over him. Morrigan, Zevran, Sten, you three can come with me, and we'll go find those idiots that rang the gong. Oghren, Leliana, Chet, Shale, you all keep watch over the campsite, but don't make it too obvious. Try to stay out of sight when you can. Everybody ready?" They nodded, and he felt fairly proud of himself for what he felt was a fine, well enough reasoned plan.

He was less proud of himself when he realized, as they played the world's most annoying game of hide and seek, that he had stuck himself with his three least favorite companions. He had Morrigan, who did nothing but insult him, Zevran, who was either making a terrible sexual joke or a disturbing sexual innuendo, and Sten, who said nothing but was surely judging his lack of leadership experience behind those cold, impassive eyes.

As much as he didn't want to leave any of the cultists alive to prey on the travelers who would inevitably come once word of this discovery got out, at some point in what might have been the beginning of the next morning he had to admit defeat. They turned, trudging back along their path to the campsite, hoping to find some much needed sleep when they got back.

He got a nice surprise when, upon his return, he discovered a pile of five dead bodies in the process of being buried. According to the official report he was given from Leliana, Oghren had been standing watch, the rest of them hidden, much like he had suggested, when the group that had rung the gong had happened upon their camp, and decided it looked like easy pickings with just the one defender and the sick bed.

It was less easy when the golem and bard had emerged from behind them and quickly slit throats and squished bodies, Oghren not even needing to lift his weapon. The remaining cultists had indeed been dealt with, even if it was thanks to Alistair's backup plan, not exactly the way he had intended.

This was the story he told to Daniel once he awoke the next day, looking around confusedly at the roof over his head and lack of a dragon corpse nearby. Alistair and a few of the others had used the remainder of the day after their nap to go back and gather some of the scales off of the fallen beast, and he now presented his friend with one large tooth on a string, which he said was identical to one Zevran now wore, as a recognition of their contribution in bringing the thing down for good.

"And now that you're back, everything can get back to normal, we can get headed back to Redcliffe. No more need for me to lead anybody at the moment. I've already been lost somewhere in those tunnels for a while, the next step is losing my pants, and I'd rather skip that if at all possible."

"I don't know," Daniel shook his head, his favorite smirk on his face, "it seems like you did quite well in my unexpected absence. I'm sure the team will be in fine hands, should your leadership be needed again."

"Yes, well, it'll happen soon enough, I'm certain. No need to hope for it."

As always happens, the events Alistair was expecting and dreading came to pass much quicker than he had been hoping. Before he knew it, Arl Howe and Teyrn Loghain were dead, Queen Anora was extremely angry about being locked in a tower, and he was the newest King of Ferelden. Not long after that found the Grey Wardens and their allies in Redcliffe, learning the horrible truth that the darkspawn were truly headed toward the capital of Denerim, and they set themselves to ride straight there as soon as possible, deciding on the next morning.

When they arrived, their armies massed outside the city, Alistair could feel the apprehension running rampant among them. He could feel it within himself as well. These groups that had promised the Wardens their support had fought bravely, controlling the roads and protecting Redcliffe, but they had never truly faced the darkspawn like this before. Only their small fellowship really had, and he knew that. They needed inspiration, they needed something to give them the push to take back their city, their nation from these monstrous things. And after his conversation with his fellow Warden, he knew what that meant. These people needed their King. But that didn't mean he had to be the inspiration, specifically. He was the leader Ferelden had, but not the one it deserved, and he would make sure they knew that.

"This man before me has risen from nothing, from the destruction of everything he held dear twice, to lead all of us to this position. It is because of him that we have this chance, this opportunity to kick the darkspawn back into the bowels of Thedas from whence they came. He has led us this far, but now we must take the burden of leadership, of fighting the battle onto our own shoulders. We fight for those that have fallen, from my brother King Cailan and the Grey Wardens lost at Ostagar, to all those lost along the course of the fight. For Ferelden! For the Grey Wardens!" The crowd noise rose from a dull roar to an all-out cheer as he spoke, first gesturing to his fellow Warden, giving him the credit he would never be willing to accept otherwise, then appealing to their pride and need for retribution for those they had lost. He whipped the crowd into a frenzy before leading them through the gates, his father's sword held high, his best friend at his side. At some point along this crazy journey they'd taken together, Alistair realized, Ferelden's last two Grey Wardens had managed to turn each other into better people than they'd started as. He had, after all, managed to give a speech, in front of actual people, and it had worked! And he still had his pants. There was a first time for everything, it would seem.

**Every time you review, I get an email that makes me happy. And it could make you happy to, if you imagine that every time you review a monkey throws his feces at someone you don't like. Or, you know, you could always read the rest of Daniel Cousland's adventures. That's always fun too.**** -SGM-**


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